


Solitaire

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-21 00:07:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11345943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Set right after *Gender Bender*.





	Solitaire

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Solitaire by BGM

NOTE: Well, I ~*finally*~ did it y'all: my first X-Files piece of fiction (well, that's if you don't count the Mulder/Garak thing I started) ~*inhale*~ Please ... just remember that when the verdict is rendered. ~*grin*~   
DISCLAIMER: X-FILES and all related characters are Copyright of Chris Carters, Ten-Thirteen productions and 20th Century Fox. No infringement intended.  
RATING: I'm still debating over this ... the ~*sex*~ scene is rather tame, and inoffensive, so I tend to lean on an R. Please, anyone who disagree with this, tell me.  
CONTENT: ~*Solitaire*~ is evidently French for solitary. So this isn't really a story which ~*pairs*~ anyone, per se. It's mostly Mulder and his over-active imagination. ~*smile*~  
TIME: This takes place right after Gender-Bender.

* * *

~*~*~*~  
Solitaire  
by BGM  
~*~*~*~

Scully had said to rest. Well fuck Scully. Fuck all of them. He knew what he'd seen.

Fox Mulder was stretched over his couch, one arm flung over his eyes, the other balancing a bottle of Jack Daniels across the floor. Around him, darkness ruled. Only the flickering light of his television set, muted, flashing images of some tape he'd mindlessly slipped into the VCR. Eventually the tape ran its course, and all was left was a continuous garbled image.

Mulder didn't care. All he cared for the moment was the sweet darkness he'd brought upon himself as his eyes closed behind his arm. That and the intoxicating buzz of drunkenness. He was the happiest man alive with such simple pleasures, except ... something was missing. An emptiness that had pushed him to watch that tape ... an emptiness that was still not fulfilled.

Try as he might, his brain couldn't discover it. 

He sighed. Finally he blinked, slipping his arm off from his face as he allowed reality to kindle his senses. He glanced at the time, and groaned. 

Forget calling Scully. She'd bite his head off.

He rolled into a sitting position, shielding his face with both hands just before he heard the tell-tale thud of a bottle falling to the carpet. He muttered, and raised it upright.

"What a life," he said out loud, leaning over his knees as he considered his apartment. "Nice and proper FBI agent when duty calls ... just a mindless empty slob otherwise." He wondered lazily about his love life before wincing with returning pain. "No no no no no no no ..." he shook his head and closed his eyes shut. "Don't even think it."

But it was too late. The images came tumbling back in his mind, and he cursed them all. Forbidden images. 

He groaned and leaned back against the couch, helpless, allowing them to enter his mind.

Such a beautiful picture though ... the danger of such desires ... danger to his career, his reputation ... but at times he wondered if he'd be bold enough to risk it all. To risk all for just a simple kiss that would inject happiness in his dismal life for a long time. He sighed and closed his eyes, letting his mind drift off to fantasy. >From his lips, a single word drifted idly. Walter.

After a moment, he found himself in the gripes of sensation. He had hastily, almost frantically, opened his trousers, letting his scalding sex free to be fondled ... to be caressed and touched as he watched the images speed before his mind's eye. He'd only partially rose from the tape ... not even enough for him to bother stimulating himself. 

Now he was on fire.

That body, so well-defined, so strong and tall ... he wanted to melt against that body. Let himself be consumed by passion he knew would never be. He bit his swollen lower lip, his eyes still closed as bitterness and shame warred with his rapture. He pumped his sex steadily, unable to control it, to stop it. He wanted him, oh by God he wanted him. To be seduced, to seduce, to take and be taken by that beautiful man. To caress that tantalising chest, to kiss those hard lips, to gaze into those soulful eyes, unencumbered by glasses. To drift into sated sleep against him, to feel delight and happiness at finally be with another, to wake with him in the morning and engage in sweet, languid love ... 

He moaned and let the waves of passion crash over him, tipping him over the edge as he came against his hand, groaning low, too ashamed to cry out at such a bitter fantasy. He slumped against the sofa just as the phone rang. 

He cursed, and reached for it with his free hand. 

"Mulder," he groaned into the phone, and he hoped that whoever was on the other end believed they had woken him.

"Scully. Listen, sorry it's so late ..." A pause, then a small, rare laugh. "Or rather early, but then you do it often enough ..."

Is there a point? He tried to inject a smile in his tone. "So what can I do for you?" The images were fading ... already the fantasy was pushed to the back of his mind, letting his usual self emerge.

"I ... actually, I couldn't sleep. I thought maybe you and I could talk ..."

He frowned, slipping against his couch again. He crumpled his nose and asked, "Talk? Since when do you--"

"I wanted to know if you were all right. I know you left the scene pretty upset yesterday ... And ..." Another pause. Mulder listened to the silence, almost hearing the debate inside Scully's mind. "...well that's it. I wanted to hear that you were fine."

"Well m'fine," he replied, nodding and trying to convince himself of it. 

"Mulder are you drunk?"

"Why no Scully, I was just sleeping peacefully before the shrill of the telephone drew me from the delightful dreams I was having." He almost laughed.

"Well now you know how I feel ..." she smiled.

He looked at the time again, then decided sleep wouldn't be his friend tonight. His partner was. He sat upright again then said hoarsely, "Do you want to go get a cup of coffee? I'll buy ..."

Scully's reply was almost too quick. "Sure. I'll drive over to your place."

He went to nod, then quickly jerked the phone back. "No, wait, I'll pick you up. Just ... I need to freshen up."

Scully laughed again. "No problem Mulder. See you in a few."

He nodded and hung up, sighing to himself before he headed for the bathroom. So then he *wasn't* the only one who stayed up until the wee hours of morning struggling with problems. Or maybe he was, and he'd seriously under-estimated Dana's friendship. As he opened the lights and ran the water, he began considering the possibility that he wasn't so alone after all.

THE END


End file.
